


Dead Drop

by NightsMistress



Category: The Divine Cities Series - Robert Jackson Bennett
Genre: Gen, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:23:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5975322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightsMistress/pseuds/NightsMistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a better world, Shara would be a historian. However, Saypur needs patriots, and so Vinya teaches her six year old niece how to do a dead drop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Drop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merit/gifts).



> Thank you to Isis for the beta.

In a better world, Shara Komayd would grow up to be an historian. If Saypur’s overthrowing of its Continental master had been the glorious revolution they were teaching in schools now, then Shara would have been free to pursue her own interests without thought of what her country needed of her. But Vinya is acutely aware of the precarious position that Saypur holds in modern politics; though Saypur is undeniably the most powerful of nations, it did not get there by declining to trample on other, more sensitive, nations and their agendas on its way to the top.

Also, the Komayds were never a large family. The Plague Years were devastating to Saypur — though Vinya takes some comfort in the knowledge that they were more devastating to the Continent — and Shara was too young then to remember her parents. Saypur, however, does remember Shara’s parents, and in Vinya’s experience, the dead take on a rosy glow that the living could not hope to claim.

Shara has been graced with dead parents burnished to a saintly gleam by the affections of her country, but is too young and inexperienced to make good use of that. Vinya, on the other hand, is clear-sighted enough to see that Saypur’s love can also be used to further Saypur’s interests. And so one of the most senior operatives in Saypur is teaching her six-year-old niece the art of the dead drop.

Out of respect toward Shara’s age, Vinya is treating it as a game: locate the hidden book in their estate. Shara had initially been quite sceptical, but she had quickly thrown herself into the ‘game’.

How a person follows the trail of a dead drop is often provides insight into her character. Vinya has made it easy and hidden the book inside a larger false book. Shara is familiar with the library, though she believes she is more familiar with it than she truly is, and started her inspection by looking for books that she did not recognise. When that does not prove fruitful, she sucks on her bottom lip.

Vinya stands in the far corner, arms folded, and watches the scene unfold. She says nothing as Shara scowls darkly at the shelves. It is best that Shara learn early in her training that the only aid she can rely on is herself. Self-reliance is something that Shara will need to know if she is to be useful.

Finally, tentatively, Shara walks over to a shelf. She pauses, studying the wood grain carefully, and then, with a hand still chubby with baby fat, extracts the false book. It falls open in her hands, exposing the hidden book: an early work by Dr Pangyui. Shara’s face lights up, as it is not a book she has read before. Admittedly, it is written for someone twice Shara’s age at the very least, but its value will only increase over time.

“Well done,” Vinya says. “What made you look there?”

“The dust,” Shara says. “It was cleaner there than anywhere else.”

It is not the answer Vinya expects. The answer she had expected was that the title of the false book contained a pun, the books in Vinya’s library are devoid of whimsy, and therefore the false book stood out. She readjusts her expectations. Shara is young.

And, if she is honest, Vinya is stung because she had not thought about the distribution of dust being a clue. It is genuinely embarrassing to be outsmarted by a six year old. It is also disquieting. 

“Auntie Vinya,” Shara says abruptly. “Why are we doing this? I didn’t think you liked playing games.”

 _Why, indeed,_ Vinya thinks. Vinya does not have a lot of experience with children. There are few children in her line of work, and by the time Vinya receives recruits they have been moulded already: by parents, by university, by the training all Ministry operatives receive. All Vinya does is uncover and refine the patriotic streak that compels someone to join the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. She has never had the opportunity to imbue a future operative with the single-minded loyalty to Saypur’s interests that Continental agents need. Shara represents a unique opportunity.

“You understand that you’re descended from the Kaj, don’t you?”

Shara nods warily. This is something that Vinya has taken great care to teach Shara. Vinya is not sure that Shara understands the mammoth weight and responsibility of her heritage, but there is time yet for that. Shara won’t be joining as an operative for a decade or so, and Vinya thinks in decades now. 

“And that the Kaj is why there are no more Saypuri slaves?”

“Yes, Auntie Vinya,” Shara says with a hint of frustration. “We learned this at school.”

“Oh, of course,” Vinya says. She knew this already. Shara’s education is one of Vinya’s long-term operations, after all. “Then why don’t you tell me why we’re doing this?”

Shara frowns. She’s a plain little thing, and most people would find it hard to remember that behind those soft dark eyes is a ferocious intellect. Vinya has only made that mistake once, and has since learned to guide Shara to the conclusions that she wants her to make, rather than simply telling her like she would any other child her age. Shara is stubborn and inflexible, like most children her age, and holds tightly to truths she comes to herself. Far more tightly than if Vinya simply told her. “It’s because we didn’t have any Divinities of our own,” Shara says finally. “We had to get strong by ourselves, and no one likes that. We’re the last of the Kaj’s family, so we have to make sure that what he did sticks.”

“Very good,” Vinya says. “That’s exactly right. We are the last of the Kaj’s descendants. Outside Saypur, they hate him, because he killed the Divinities and freed us from slavery. They’d do anything to make us their slaves again, so we have to be more clever than they are, and know what they’re going to do before they do it.” She smiles at Shara, and ruffles her hair. “That’s why I need you, dear. You’ll be a very good operative one day.”

“Really?”

“If you keep up your studies, that is.”

Shara nods. “It’s my turn to hide the book.”

“Prepare a dead drop, darling. It’s not a game of hide and seek.”

“I know,” Shara says. “Hide and seek is for babies.”

She runs off, book tucked under her arm. Vinya watches her progress. So far, her plan is unfolding as it should. After all, future patriots are not born. They’re made. And Ashara Komayd, niece of the future Minister for Foreign Affairs — though Vinya occasionally entertains ideas of reaching higher — is shaping up to be a patriot that Saypur would be proud to call its own.


End file.
